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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384680">Anne of the SS American</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproutings/pseuds/Sproutings'>Sproutings</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anything Goes - Porter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:02:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26384680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproutings/pseuds/Sproutings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Anne prepares to leave Ingleside, to see her youngest daughter, Rilla, and her beloved husband, Gilbert. She looks forward to her reunion with them, but does not expect too much of the sea voyage.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Good bye to Ingleside</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Four Winds harbour lighthouse had, for many years, warned ships of the treacherous waters below. It had seen the schoolmaster’s bride come to the shores of Prince Edward Island. It continued to shine when the life of Captain Jim, the lighthouse keeper for many a year, had passed on. It was a friend to Anne Blythe when she came as a bride with Gilbert and her star-spangled visions of married life to her House of Dreams. Even from Ingleside down in Glen St Mary, Anne could see it.<br/>
After her son, Walter, was killed in battle, Anne would creep to the attic of her home to watch the light glow when she could not sleep. It comforted her to see its steady beam. It led people to safety, to a kind shore, away from unsafe waters. Anne would gaze into the beam and sometimes, but rarely, she fancied that Walter and Joyce were beyond that light. If only she could see beyond, she might see their smiling faces.<br/>
In the cold, grey light of dawn, Anne watched as the great light was shut off to give way to the rays of the sun. Despite the current chill, it promised to be a warm, sunny day. For this, Anne was glad: She felt that rain might be more suitable to her feelings, but sun would help her to bear them.<br/>
For today, Anne would be leaving Ingleside. She would of course be back, but many months would be passed away from her home. The twofold thought of seeing Gilbert at the end of her sea voyage, and of seeing Rilla – however briefly – once she reached New York was the only thing that gave her incentive to turn the lock in the door of Ingleside.<br/>
Her son, Shirley, was at the wheel of the car. He waited patiently for his mother, and mentally checked over his list of things to do. They had plenty of time to get to the station, so that his mother had opportunity to farewell the old place. (Had he known that Anne’s farewells had included saying goodbye to the numerous trees of the Ingleside property, he may not have been so patient. However, she had wisely said her arbitrary goodbyes the evening before, with nobody to hurry or stare at her.) The luggage was all packed – yes. It was strapped on to the back of the car – yes. His mother had her small bag to carry – yes. It contained all the necessary paperwork for their train journeys, as well as tickets for the ferry to the mainland, and the ship, the SS American, set to leave from New York City and sail to London. Shirley knew that his mother did not see it like that: She would leave Ingleside, to see Rilla, and then travel to see Gilbert. Gilbert and she would travel back to Ingleside. He sighed. He wished that his mother had consented to fly, but she had none of his own fascination with aviation, and was anticipating her visit to her youngest daughter who lived in New York with her husband, Kenneth.<br/>
Looking at his mother, Shirley thought to himself that he really did admire. Imagine, he thought, going at her age on a voyage without a companion!<br/>
His mother did not enjoy being alone – in the last few months while his father had been absent from the old family home, Anne had been only too relieved to dine with Shirley and his family, or with Jem, Faith and their two sons. Nan and Di lived with their respective families not far away, but it was too far for his mother to travel often for a meal…. And now she was about to be going across the Atlantic Ocean.<br/>
He looked at his mother. He always had confidence in her. Who wouldn’t? Those calm, grey eyes were so serene. Her posture was always perfect, and lent her stately air – though she still had not a stately figure, having retained the slimness of her early womanhood. Her mind was inquiring, still sharp, and, like that of the teacher that she once was, could discern things in people quickly. Her hair was grey and coiled at the back of her neck in an old fashioned way. “I am old fashioned, so why shouldn’t my hair and clothes be, also?” She would say, and sigh.<br/>
Her calm, resolute manner, and her staid, old fashioned clothing would make anybody believe in her ability, despite her age. Still, Walter wondered at the sense in taking a sea voyage at her age. His mother was not the sort to go and do wild things. Never had been – as far as he knew.<br/>
He put all doubt out of his mind with the thought of her being a responsible, ageing adult who never took risks. He turned his gaze away from her, and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Not in impatience, but in a steady rhythm to occupy himself until his mother felt ready to leave.<br/>
Anne heard the final click of the lock. She drew the key out, and enclosed it in an envelope. She would give it to Shirley, who had promised to air the house out every few weeks, for which she was grateful. Jem was always busy as a doctor, so Shirley took on board many of the familial responsibilities.<br/>
Anne wiped away a tear and reprimanded herself. It was silly to be so attached to an earthly thing, like a house. She was going to see her family, and had no business to be so sad or nervous, when she should have faith in her safety. All the same, just as she had farewelled the trees the night before, she now stooped down to the mint that partially grew over steps leading to the door.<br/>
“Thank you, for always welcoming people to our home with your fresh scent. I look forward to being back, and to smelling that delicious welcome once again.” She plucked a stem with some leaves and a purple flower on it, and tucked it into her belt.<br/>
With just a tiny piece of Ingleside with her, her strong son at the wheel of the car, and the sunshine growing strongly, Anne drove away from her home: To Rilla, to Gilbert, and to the SS American.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Rilla's home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anne and Walter find themselves in New York City, the city of Rilla and Ken Forde's abode. Emotions run high for Anne and Rilla especially, but mostly they are happy to be laugh, drink tea, and embrace.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once Anne and Shirley arrived on a fashionable, leafy street in New York, Shirley began to doubt his mother’s patent calm after all. She was positively giddy, much to has chagrin. He had to smile though – his mother of the perfect posture and old-fashioned, demure clothing, was actually excited for once.<br/>
Anne was walking rapidly along the street, holding a note in her hand. She held it tightly, and kept glancing at it, then looking searchingly at the house numbers as she trotted past. Shirley was no slouch, but he found himself having to keep up with her and unable to maintain his usual, steady gait.<br/>
The piece of paper in Anne’s hand was nothing so very extraordinary. Usually a mere address would not cause such excitement, but, as this particular address would deliver her to her youngest daughter in her New York house for the inaugural time, she was excited. Not only that, but she was publicly displaying her excitement, something that she had not done, and had rarely had cause to do, for quite some time.<br/>
Anne and Shirley found that they need not have been searching for house numbers so assiduously. Rilla, who had been gazing at the clock for some time, and had been imagining that she heard her visitors at the gate every other minute for the last hour at least, had given into her own excitement, and was rushing out of the front door. She wore no hat, although she had managed to slide her feet into a dainty pair of matching boots.<br/>
Rilla unlatched the gate onto the street, and seeing her mother and her brother, she positively launched herself at them to embrace them both.<br/>
Rilla was the Rilla as of yore: slim, laughing, and with the air of maturity that belonged to those whose girlhoods had been snatched by the Great War, and replaced with knowledge of life’s fortunes and misfortunes. She had as yet to discover the maturity and laughter that would come into life with a baby of her and her husband’s own. Matching the fashionable street in which she lived, she had a modish, short hairdo.<br/>
Once Anne had released her precious daughter from the fond embrace, she calmed down enough to notice the chic new ‘do.<br/>
“It absolutely suits you. I can’t say that I fancied short hair on myself – although it was better than green hair.” Anne said.<br/>
“What?” Shirley and Rilla exclaimed at once. They had not heard of the Dyed Hair Fiasco of old Green Gables days.<br/>
Anne demurred: The mention of her green hair had been emitted by mistake, as she had been caught up in the joy of seeing her daughter. However, her children insisted. She gave in to their entreaties, and told a short version of the story, and cut out a lot of the dramatics – the sobbing, the magnitude of the tragedy of her shingled hair – but she did narrate Diana’s loyalty in that trying time with a gentle, reminiscent smile.<br/>
Despite Anne’s version of the story, both Rilla and Shirley could barely believe their ears. Their mother, the calm Mrs Blythe? Dye her hair? Dye her hair…. green? With dye from a peddler? Green?
Laughing, and clasping hands, Rilla and Anne walked through the gate that Shirley held open for them. He smiled as he watched them walk up the path and through the front door (that Rilla had left open in her haste).
The followed them into the vestibule and closed the door. Anne removed her hat, and Wally took his coat off. It felt good to relax after so much travel.
In Rilla’s house it was easy to relax: it, like its mistress, was modish, but held notes of old-fashioned sentimentality. It made it feel like a real, homey home, to know that the residents were humans with interests and loves. Anne, always sensitive to how a house felt, was glad of this. Rilla toured them throughout her little castle. Both Anne and Walter noted and appreciated the notes of life in Glen St Mary, by the sea, that Rilla so obviously treasured in her own home: Here was a quilt that she had made from one of Mrs Lynde’s patterns, and there was a braided rug, like Marilla used to make; here was a vase of xynias to rival those that Susan grew and prized; the herb garden at the back of the house was surrounded by conch shells, just as the garden at the House of Dreams had been. When they were allowed to sit down in the parlour for a cup of tea and scones, Anne saw a framed poem of the fireplace. The frame was simple, with a background of red poppies against the black of the text. Upon approaching it, she saw that the poem was Walter’s poem, ‘The Piper’. Anne swallowed and, although she knew each and every word by heart, she read it through. She felt as though she owed it to Walter to always read, acknowledge and appreciate every single one of those bitter words of sacrifice and heartache.
Walter and Rilla had fallen silent as they saw their mother gaze at it – even after she had had plenty of time to read it, she would not take her eyes off it.
Rilla looked at her mother, so silent and still. She frowned, and shot a questioning look at Walter. He slowly shook his head and shrugged. 
Rilla took her mother’s cup of tea to her. She had to nudge her mother’s elbow and push the cup into her hand before Anne’s gaze was less absent. Anne smiled sadly and cleared her throat.
“I am glad you have that framed there…. It looks just right.” Anne said.
“Ken and I are so glad to give it pride of place. We all miss him, Mother.” Rilla replied. “Drink your tea."
Walter felt it was up to him to change the subject. “It’s a beautiful house you and Ken have, Rilla. Solid – very large.”
Rilla glanced down and said, “Well, you see, it is large, yes. We have been wanting to… fill it up.” 
It was an uncomfortable moment for Rilla. Her mother took her hand and smiled at her. “I know that you don’t want to hear this: But please, try not to worry. You and Ken both have your health and that, at this time, is the most important thing. You may have to be patient for some time more, but have faith, dearest.”
Rilla smiled and squeezed her mother’s careworn hand.
She did not know how much faith she had, right now. In powers beyond her comprehension, she had faith. But what if faith was telling her to do something about the whole situation? She had recently been visiting an elderly friend who had had something to say on the matter.
This Mrs Levinson had spoken with much more forthrightness than any of her family did – perhaps she thought that her wealth entitled her to it, Rilla wondered.
Mrs Levinson had told her, in no uncertain terms, of an excellent Dr Ryder who had worked wonders for her granddaughter. The only problem was that this doctor was in London. Rilla had visited doctors local to New York, to no avail. This doctor had been just what Mary needed – he performed a tiny operation for her and, as the lady had rather crudely worded it, “even got Mary’s maid in the family way, as well!” 
In the present moment, Rilla told herself to worry – at least, not to worry now, but to enjoy her mother’s and Walter’s visit to the big city.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am a huge fan of Downton Abbey, so, yes, that Mrs Levinson is indeed the redoubtable red-head that we saw in the 1920s at the Abbey.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The talk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anne's thoughts drift to a critical period of life, and to the advice that she was given.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>That night Anne went to bed early. After so much excitement, new sights and travel, she was weary. She left Shirley, Rilla and Ken in the sitting room with cocktails and tea.<br/>
Anne may have been surprised to see cocktails, but she did not want Rilla to see that. Shirley felt that he was experiencing the real New York life of 1935. Thank goodness for the end of the Prohibition.<br/>
Rilla chatted with her brother and her husband with a smile on her lips, her feet in Ken’s lap, and a whiskey sour, barely touched, in her hands. She was so happy to be comfortably ensconced in her home, with family around her. The comforting warm light emitted by the fire, and the soft glow of the tall lamps allowed Rilla to see Walter and Ken. The three of them were talking about nothing much: The conversation drifted from old times in Glen St Mary, around the modernity of New York, and anywhere else that it fancied. It didn’t really matter what they were talking about, it was just so pleasant to be together.<br/>
Although Anne was more than ready to lay her head upon the pillow and close her eyes, she sat at the dressing table brushing her hair meditatively. She noticed the absence of the noises that she had grown used to – she noticed their absence more than she had actually noticed their presence at Ingleside.<br/>
It had been a long time since she had lived in a city – she cast her mind back to the good days in Patty’s Place, on Spofford Avenue, Kinsgport. Although the house had been at the end of the leafy, well-bred avenue, it had had its share of noise from pedestrians on the street, deliveries, and, of course, the constant hum of people moving in and out, upstairs and downstairs. More than anything, the knowledge of living in a house with so many human and feline occupants had given it an air of busyness and liveliness.<br/>
In Kingsport there was always some new distraction – a party, an assignment, some news from her friends, the thrill of setting up house, their plans and ambitions, and the misadventures of new housekeepers kept everybody occupied and unable to settle to a long-term routine.<br/>
Anne smiled at the memory, and wondered how on earth they had all got on so well. Perhaps it was the fact that they were on an adventure together to see where their lives would lead. They were more forgiving then of the small trials that would arise. What one person lacked in knowledge or practice, somebody else would make up for, and their starshiney interests and ambitions knitted them together.<br/>
A bowl of chrysanthemums sat on the dressing table. That, and the place where Anne’s memory already dwelt recalled a certain discussion to the forefront of Anne’s mind: One night, after Aunt Jamesina had retired to room downstairs, the girls sat in the bedroom shared by Priscilla and Stella, with Mrs Lynde’s quilts piled all over themselves.<br/>
They were giggling over the fact that Phil had received a bowl of chrysanthemums that morning. They were from Timothy Wire, whose lanky name suited his surname to an unfortunate degree. Phil had fallen in raptures over the flowers, but dismissed the card. She was glad to bring some beauty to the comfort of Patty’s Place, and proudly displayed the blue in the kitchen window.<br/>
“Phil, ought you really accept those flowers when you know that Timothy will never be a serious contender?” Stella asked with mock severity.<br/>
“Yes I ought, because I want you share their gorgeousness.” Phil replied pertly. “Tim knows that we shall never end up together. So, where is the harm in accepting some flowers? To turn them down would only hurt his feelings.”<br/>
Anne was wondering with her customary questions as to how one could accept a love token without any feeling of love. Phil interpreted her puckered brow correctly.<br/>
“Anne, my Queen, you must realise that I enjoy being friends with men. Just as you are friends with Charlie Sloane – well, maybe not the same way. Just as you and Gilbert are friends – no, perhaps not in that way either. I only mean to say that – where is the harm? Neither of us is doing anything serious. And the really serious thing… that will happen only with one person…. Although I wish I knew whether that one will be Alec or Alonzo.”<br/>
The girls shrieked at such an allusion to such a subject.<br/>
Anne replied “Oh, Phil! You do say the most shocking things.”<br/>
“Do I?” Phil said with true innocence. “I don’t see why. You grew up on a farm, did you not? Well, then, don’t tell me you think that it has no part in everyday life. I think that it is much better to have a few clues about the whole thing before one is married. It’s an important part of life. Why, without it, there wouldn’t be any life!”<br/>
The girls had subsided into giggles and blushes, while Phil maintained her superior opinion of the facts of life. Every so often she would attack one of the others with a sudden fact, or an opinion pertaining to it. She knew its importance, but was as yet to learn how to treat it as a mature subject, or how to truly open a discussion about it.<br/>
Anne laid down her brush – she had ceased brushing her hair, and had simply held it at shoulder height as her thoughts drifted – and began to braid. With a different occupation for her hands, Anne’s thoughts changed to dwell on Rilla and Ken. She remembered her own eagerness to begin a family with Gilbert. She wished that she would be blessed with a grandchild from her youngest daughter. Perhaps…. Was everything alright between them? She had nearly entered her own marriage with very little idea of how it all worked. Thank goodness Mrs Allan, the minister’s wife, had seen to it that she should not be completely clueless.<br/>
As Mrs Lynde had darkly hinted, “If you let a man boss you on your wedding night, you marriage’ll carry on that way all your years. That’s what. Much better to hear what a woman has to say about it first and take her advice on what to do.”<br/>
Mrs Lynde had said nothing more on the subject – her own aversion to the speaking on it would not allow it. Besides, she was afraid to shock Marilla any further. Mrs Lynde was certain that Marilla’s eyebrows would disappear into her hairline if she were to continue.<br/>
Mrs Lynde had written a letter to Mrs Allan, explaining the fact that Anne had no idea of what was going to happen, and she ought to have. Gilbert was a good young man, but, well, you know what men are. (Despite Mrs Lynde’s running down of men, her marriage had been a happy one. Thomas Lynde had had no aptitude to make it an unhappy one, and Mrs Lynde had more than enough energy to make a go of it for the two of them and their children. She was in constant belief that the best way to run a marriage and house was to be the unquestionable boss of it. She wanted Anne to have the same chance as she did. If Anne began her life as Gilbert’s wife on the wrong foot or in ignorance as to ‘the facts’, then Anne would be under Gilbert’s thumb and guidance. Better that Gilbert should be under Anne’s thumb.)<br/>
So, Mrs Lynde appealed to Mrs Allan. Mrs Allan wrote to Anne. Marilla was heartily glad to be relieved of that duty when she was informed of it by Mrs Lynde.<br/>
Dear Anne, [the letter ran]<br/>
I am so very happy to congratulate you once again on your upcoming marriage to Gilbert. How glad it makes me to know that the both of you are going out into the world with goodness of heart, plans, and love for not only each other, but for those around you as well.<br/>
My dear Anne, I hope that you will allow me to be your Sunday school teacher once again. This subject is not fit for the age of my usual Sunday scholars. However, it pertains to a very important part of the sacrament of marriage and, therefore, I feel entitled to give you a little lesson.<br/>
I am writing of your wedding night. You have mentioned to me in confidence that you and Gilbert plan to have children and to raise a family in the eyes of God. It may seem strange to you but, in order to make that family, there is something you must do in order to begin it, that differs from the lessons of propriety we have been taught to follow. With your husband, however, this act of familiarity and family is, in a way, a gift from God.<br/>
I may as well stop tiptoeing around the subject and tell you exactly what is what. I hope that you will forgive the blunt language, and remember that this is an act of love and of family-building. These are two things that can never be wrong.<br/>
[Here follows an in depth explanation of anatomy. With due sensitivity to Mrs Allan I will not include it, but my readers may be assured that it covered all necessary information.]<br/>
My dear Anne, I hope that I have not shocked you. I think it best that all women know about this before their marriage. As a young lady with an excellent education, you may know this already, but I think that I have as yet the most important part to add.<br/>
You may have heard or gathered that the enjoyment of it is only for men. I have witnessed people saying that men are polygamous and that women are monogamous and feel little pleasure, or little desire for the pleasure. Please ignore that as nonsense. I am sure that you will agree with me that it is disrespectful to both men and women. You will find that the act is actually a wonderful way to show love, and to create a family is a blessing – I simply can not omit that it is fun.<br/>
You and Gilbert share a wonderful bond that will only grow through the influence of this act of love. Respect yourself and respect him through this act, and it will lead you to a happy marriage. Remember that respect is an important part of it, and then enjoy it.<br/>
Now that Mr Allan is home, I must fold this letter and hide my blushes. I look forward so very much to seeing you at Green Gables on your wedding day. On that day I will send you, as I do now, all of my love and well wishes,<br/>
From your Sunday school teacher,<br/>
Mrs Allan.<br/>
Anne smiled at the recollection of that letter. As Mrs Stacy had predicted, she had gathered certain facts while at college. Although Anne herself was unintentionally above the crudities hinted at by some people, she had a natural curiosity and knack for picking up knowledge.<br/>
Prior to the arrival of Mrs Allan’s letter, Anne knew some aspects of the physical. Mrs Allan’s letter tied up all of the loose ends: what exactly went where, the deed that sowed the oats, the function of her woman’s body. More importantly, though, it narrated to Anne the bond that was brought about by the deed, and how it related her and her husband-to-be to God.<br/>
Later, on the morning after her wedding, Anne felt even more grateful to Mrs Allan. Gilbert had had an excellent knowledge of what went where – he was a doctor, after all – but no idea of how to enjoy it. Thanks to Mrs Allan, and some delicate suggestions from Philippa Gordon (whose education as a wife to her own darling minister was teaching her just what delicacy was), Anne was able to join with Gilbert in creating a memorable night of love that would set their marriage in the right direction. Both of them felt the importance of their act. With their knowledge concerning the different aspects of it, and their deep feelings for each other, they could then fully realise their enjoyment for it, too.<br/>
In the spare room of Rilla’s home, Anne finished braiding her hair, and flicked the plait over her shoulder. She felt so very grateful again for the guidance that she had received in that critical period of life. Although she had no doubt that Gilbert would always treat her with respect and love, Anne unknowingly agreed with Mrs Lynde that it was best for a woman to receive a woman’s advice. Mrs Allan had stepped in – as she had at other times – to be the mother that Anne had not. Mrs Lynde, Miss Stacy, and Marilla had all been mothers to Anne. They formed a circle of wisdom and love around Anne that allowed her to step out into the world with a husband she loved and was eagerly awaiting to meet once again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Because of my interest in taboos and older books, I wonder who told my favourite characters about sexual education. This chapter focuses on what Anne was told before her wedding night, and how it influenced her.<br/>I tried to write this as something that would fit with propriety for the late 1800s. The opinions that are offered here are those as held by my picture of Mrs Allan and other characters. I think that Anne must have had some guidance from at least one of the older women figures in her life before her wedding night and that that is something that helped her have a happy marriage with Gilbert. (I love Gil, but I would hate for Anne to be totally depending on her husband for everything.)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The colour of tea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Rilla has an idea, and plans are made for the voyage.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In New York the mornings begin early. Bakeries lend a warm, fresh aroma to the air, different to the floral, dewy scent of the countryside – but just as delicious in its own way. Traffic and footsteps mask the absence of the woodland creatures, but the object is the same for both: To begin a new day, to be met with hopes, worries, and surprises. The sun touches the buildings and turns a cityscape of grey into the bright colours of shop windows, rooftops, and roads, just as the sun in the countryside gives warmth to each blade of grass, each tall-reaching tree, and each burrow and nest.</p><p>As always, the morning began early for Anne. She retained as yet the childhood habit of awakening early and letting her mind roam. During the war, her mind had dwelt too much on Europe and her sons at the Front.</p><p>Now, tucked into the spare room bed amid several blankets, pillows and cushions, she thought what they day might bring: More things to organise, re-packing, checking things over. It was not a very invigorating prospect. Perhaps she ought to feel more thrilled over the day of preparations. She was, after all, going on her first sea voyage. That ought to fill anyone with excitement. Yet Anne felt weary.<br/>With the thought of so much to do, and hearing footsteps in the passage beyond her door, she slid her feet out of bed and into a pair of slippers. She pulled on a cherry blossom kimono that Rilla had lent her, and opened the door.</p><p>She followed the sound of the footsteps down the passage, and found herself in the kitchen. It was a thoroughly modern affair. The severe linoleum checkerboard floor, refrigerator, stove, sink, in-wall ironing board and a selection of other useful household items – all said to Anne that this was a kitchen for work. She briefly remembered the times that she had spent in the Green Gables kitchen – often working, yes, but also dreaming, and talking, or sitting quietly while looking out of the vine-covered window. This kitchen was not for that. At least the sun shone through the window, instantly lifting Anne’s spirits just a little.</p><p>Anne saw that it was Ken who was already up and about. They said their good mornings, and Ken said that he was going to take a cup of tea in to Rilla. It was their morning routine.</p><p>“But, since you’re stirring, let’s get the house up!” Ken said, his smile just as charming as it had always been.</p><p>Before Anne had a chance to protest his getting Rilla out of bed too early, he had disappeared down the passage. Anne took over the preparation of the tea.</p><p>Ken found Rilla sitting up in bed, tousling her short hair. Her hairdo was still novel to them, and it delighted Rilla when Ken ran his hand through her hair.</p><p>“This morning, your hair is the colour of tea when it is drawn, just before you put the milk in.” Ken said, and bent down to kiss her lightly on the nose. “Mix your hair and the creaminess of your complexion together and you’d have the perfect cup. But it’s time to get up, Rilla-my-Rilla, as there will be a real cup of tea and your mother waiting for you in the kitchen by now.”</p><p>Rilla grinned at his compliments, stretched, and swung her long legs out of bed. She slipped into a rose-patterned kimono, ensconced her feet in a pair of pompommed slippers, and ran a brush through her hair quickly. As she hurried through these preparations, her mind was at work, and, as she often did, she spoke her thoughts to Ken, who lounged on the bed as he waited to walk with her to the kitchen.</p><p>“Darling, I wish mother could stay longer…. She seemed rather down yesterday. Perhaps it was the effort of travel, but I rather fancy that she isn’t quite happy. Shirley seemed to think so too, and he has good judgement and sees her more often. She will be at sea for such a long time, without even a companion and it’s a long way to London but -” With the brush in her hand, and an idea in her head, Rilla stopped speaking.</p><p>She rushed up to Ken, kissed him swiftly, and rushed down the passage.</p><p>Ken shook his head and followed her. What idea had suddenly taken possession of his wife?</p><p>In the kitchen, he saw Rilla take up Anne’s hands in her own, and spin her around. Anne herself was surprised by these early morning antics and asked Rilla to calm down to tell her what had happened.<br/>“Mother I have just had the most gorgeous idea! Now, tell me, what will you do all day while you are at sea?”</p><p>Anne pursed her lips. Long days at sea were what she was not looking forward to, but something that she had to endure in order to see her husband sooner rather than later – neither he nor she knew how long Gilbert’s business in England would take.</p><p>Rilla did not allow her mother to speak, but took the worried expression on her face as an answer. “Why, you will spend each day with ME!” </p><p>Ken’s eyes lit up at this plan. It was just like Rilla to rush headlong into a scheme, but he had not seen such excitement on her face for some time now. Although he knew that he would miss her, he could easily put up with that to please his wife and mother-in-law. From stories of the days of yore, he knew that he owed his mother’s and father’s marriage and happiness to Mr and Mrs Blythe, and he could not begrudge her anything.</p><p>Anyway – Anne’s eyes were shining with tears as she hugged her daughter. Who would not want to do what they could for this dear lady?</p><p>Anne had prepared tea, and Rilla showed her mother the little covered porch just outside the kitchen. “I should have shown you yesterday while we were touring the house, but it’s so small that I must have missed it. Despite its size, it makes the most tremendous difference: It is so very much nicer to have tea here than in the kitchen. The kitchen is all utility – this porch is all beauty.”</p><p>Anne had to agree. Here was the vine covered window, and the place for dreams, and companionable silences, and cheery chatter. Here was where white wicker tables and chairs invited you to sit and share a cuppa. Here was a little shelf filled with books, and a tiny cabinet of dainty china figures. Ken showed Anne a terribly handy cavity hidden in the bookshelf – “We just keep spoons in it, because we always forget to bring them out, but we fancy that its previous owners kept something much more mysterious in it.” Here was a place where Anne could fully realise and express her gratitude.</p><p>“Rilla, my love, are you quite sure that you want to take a voyage to England? I would treasure it, but it seems almost selfish of me to take you away.”</p><p>“Take me! I’d like to see you try. No, no, Mother, I am going of my own free will, and for my own selfish reasons. I almost thought that…. I would see Dr Ryder in London when we get there. It might be a pipedream, but I may as well. Ken, dearest, what do you think?”</p><p>Ken dearest could only hold his wife’s hand and give it a squeeze. That, and the look in his eyes, was all that Rilla needed to be sure that she had Ken’s full support.</p><p>After discussion – cheerful, and full of anticipation for a voyage that would now be filled with fun and adventure – Ken had to interject with some practicalities.</p><p>“Mrs Blythe, you have a full list of things to do today, and now we do too. If you are going to be casting off tomorrow, Rilla will have a ticket to buy, clothes to pack, and, I’m almost sorry to say that she will have to sort me out a bit so I won’t make a terrible mess of everything at home while she is gone.”</p><p>At the last part of his statement, Anne was ready to declare that Rilla really had better stay home, but Rilla headed this off by jumping up and clearing away the tea things.</p><p>The day passed quickly after its leisurely beginning. Shirley was routed out of bed by Rilla and the simple method of hitting him with a pillow in a sisterly way, and was informed of the new plan over a cheerful breakfast of crumpets with butter and marmalade.</p><p>Rilla went with Shirley to buy her ticket. If Rilla led Shirley astray at any point in their morning of business, it was only to a soda fountain for an ice cream and a bottle of pop. Shirley laughed to see his sister lean on the counter, fitting in with the sundry crowds of New York as though she had been born there.</p><p>“Do you miss it?” He asked, after his thoughts had led him down a garden path of memories.</p><p>“Miss what?”</p><p>“The glen – Rainbow Valley – being children, I guess.” Shirley said.</p><p>Rilla took a sip of her pop, and pondered. “I do. I love my home, but when I am in the city, I feel as though I am play-acting, and that I don’t quite belong. I do miss the place of Glen St Mary, and I miss our being children altogether.” It went unspoken that she missed Walter, but they both acknowledged it. “There were so many good memories there that… that it sometimes hurts, just a little bit, to think about them. I miss being so close to my brothers and sisters. And I am so glad you’re here now.” The sad little smile that lingered on her lips fled as she straightened, and paid the man behind the counter for their drinks and ices.</p><p>“Well, I am glad to find that my kid sister isn’t a true Manhattanite and is leagues above me in sophistication – although you certainly look it!” He admired Rilla’s smooth hair, neat suit, and general air of knowingness. He wasn’t exactly sure what his mother thought of this version of Rilla – worldly, sophisticated Rilla, who bossed him around the city and ordered pop, and drank cocktails. Perhaps Anne would be in for a surprise on the sea?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Before Anne and Rilla head off, I want to give Shirley a... something. He didn't get many mentions in Rilla of Ingleside, but his quietness and no-nonsense attitude make me want to do something for him before he heads home. Any ideas?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Downtown dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Blythes and Fords have a night on the town to celebrate the upcoming voyage.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Anne, Rilla, Shirley and Kenneth had a merry feast the night before the voyage. Rilla decided that they should all go out on the town to celebrate. Anne, weary after a day of organising and packing, would have agreed to anything that her daughter suggested. Shirley was keen to see more of the city. Kenneth happily fell in with any plan of his wife’s. And so at six o’clock, they were in their respective chambers dressing for the evening.<br/>
Anne had successfully packed all of her clothes, and had not been overly enthused to repeat the process. Therefore, Rilla had hunted through her own wardrobe to find something that might suit her mother. She had found a blue satin dress that fell to the floor. Anne had raised her eyebrows at the bare shoulders of the dress, but was reconciled to it by the capelet that would provide her with some coverage. Anne adjusted the jewelled belt, and looked at herself critically in the mirror: She was definitely surprised by the sight of her own reflection in such modern dress. She hoped that she was not making a spectacle of herself as mutton dressed up as lamb. Thankfully, she had a travelling coat with her that would do well enough to get her to the restaurant – and then, she would be sitting and her dress would be hardly visible. ‘Hardly visible’ was perhaps not the way to think of it. Once she was sitting, nobody would be any the wiser as to what she was wearing.<br/>
Shirley had fewer qualms about his own suit. He had packed a dinner suit in case of this event, and was glad to get some wear out of it. He thought that he really ought to take his wife out somewhere smart – perhaps get someone to take care of the children for the night. It had been a while since they had done something a bit out of the ordinary.<br/>
Although Rilla had packed many of her clothes, and had lent one outfit to her mother, she still had enough choice for one last hurrah in New York before the voyage. She chattered away to Ken, who listened attentively and found nothing to disagree with, and everything to agree with, as she smoothed her hair into a sleek cap, and dressed herself in a maroon dress with a high neck and full sleeves. She knew that her mother would have felt much more comfortable with the dress that she, Rilla, was to wear. Rilla, however, had a yearning to see her mother dressed for the modern age, and had been delighted to orchestrate its occurrence.<br/>
Ken appeared in the doorway of the en suite that adjoined their bedroom. He looked at his wife, and she looked at him. Each smiled at the other, and Rilla held out her hand. He joined her where she stood before the mirror. They turned toward each other, and Rilla said “I will miss you so very much.”<br/>
Ken’s reply was not in words, but Rilla knew he felt just the same way.<br/>
Rilla straightened his bow tie, and Ken tucked her hair behind her ear.<br/>
Soon enough, the rest of the party was ready, and on its way to the city in a taxi cab. When the car pulled out of the suburban streets and into the city proper, Anne and Shirley both watched the twinkling lights of the city above them, and gazed at the hordes of people. Anne wondered why they should still be out – and then realised that she herself was one of them, out to see New York night life (in a tame way).<br/>
Kenneth had given the direction to driver as the Stork Club. Neither Anne nor Shirley knew much about it. Rilla, the demure daughter who had prompted her mother to go out in a strapless gown, was keen to know just what they would make of it. While she missed Glen St Mary and her childhood, she loved the adventure of the city.<br/>
Once the taxi cab had dropped them at their destination, Anne and Shirley were surprised by the gold chain that blocked their entry into the club. Kenneth took the lead, and said to the doorman that they had a reservation. They entered, and Rilla immediately walked a little differently – she clicked her heels a little more smartly, and held her chin a little more titled. It could have been the sound of swing music, perhaps the chatter of the people at dinner, the sparkle of the dining room and its mirrors, the hum of well-managed activity – whatever it was, it affected Anne as well. Anne hugged her coat a little tighter, and hung to the back of the little group so that she might follow in the wake of the others.<br/>
Dinner was truly a marvellous affair. Although Kenneth and Rilla were excited by the idea of a night on the town, and were aware that they should not be together again for some time, they were not insensible of their finances. However, they encouraged Anne and Shirley to order whatever they wanted, and insisted on paying for them. Ken took the liberty of ordering a drink for Mrs Blythe, telling her it was some sort of fruit cup “made with bananas”, which gave Anne back a bit of her confidence in that chic place. Shirley was happy enough to feast his eyes on the scene around them – all the same, he hugely enjoyed his dinner and cocktail (one was enough for him). He tapped his feet along to Benny Goodman’s band, and took his sister for a spin on the dancefloor (where she led). Ken patted his wife’s hand as she left the table, and held it tightly when she returned. Soon, they left to dance together to a slower song, and they held each tightly.<br/>
Anne and Shirley sat and did not talk – they just watched the scene around them. Soon, Anne nudged Shirley and said “Do you see that man there? Watch his hand. Every so often he makes some movement, and then something happens…. He might tap it on his glass, and a waiter gives a bottle of champagne to a table – just gives it to them. The waiter says that it is on the house.”<br/>
Shirley followed his mother’s direction, and agreed. When Rilla and Ken rejoined the table, Anne asked them about it.<br/>
“He must be the owner. Apparently he has signals for all sorts of things, and he changes them fairly often so that nobody – except the staff of course - can tell what he means.” Ken told her.<br/>
The man at the table saw them looking at him, and nodded.<br/>
“I wonder what a nod means.” Shirley joked.<br/>
“Maybe we wouldn’t want to find out.” Rilla replied, but Ken was suddenly thinking that perhaps it had not been a good idea to bring his mother-in-law to the club. It was a high class place, but, after the Prohibition, every high class place had an underworld. Perhaps the owner had seen Anne notice his movements and their attached significance, and was angered when people caught on.<br/>
Anne, however, was oblivious to this. She trusted that her daughter and son-in-law would not take her anywhere seedy – it had not even entered her head as a possibility.<br/>
Soon, though, they found out just what a nod of the head meant to the nightclub owner. In a few moments, he casually strolled over and a waiter rushed forward with a chair for the fifth man.<br/>
The owner sat down and started up a conversation, talking of absolutely nothing. Anne thought that this was odd, despite her inexperience in smart New York nightclubs. The man asked them whether they were at his club to celebrate something, or just out for the fun of it.<br/>
Ken spoke for the group: “My mother-in-law and wife are leaving tomorrow on the SS American. My wife decided to leave only this morning to accompany her mother, and we’re here to celebrate them.”<br/>
Ken raised his glass as he finished, and the owner interrupted. “In that case, let me help.” Abruptly, he left the table, and in his wake they found desserts of all shapes and sizes being veritably heaped on the table.<br/>
There were Philadelphia cheesecakes, trifles, fruits, cheeses, jellies, and more. It was a riot of colour, and a circus of flavour. They were all glad that they had not feasted too much over the main course, as they endeavoured to do justice to the spread before them.<br/>
To Anne, once she was tucked into her bed later that night, the whole evening had sent her senses whirling. It had been fun, yes, and that banana drink had certainly helped her relax a bit. As she ruminated over the evening, she thought that perhaps a voyage on the ocean would not be a bad thing: She would see the rollicking sea day by day, be warmed under the sun, and with her daughter. She dreamt of passing under the beam of lighthouses as she sailed on her way over the Atlantic.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In Terry Pratchett's Witches Abroad, Nanny Ogg gets drinks for everyone that are made with bananas. The drink that Ken gets for Anne is one of the same kind.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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